About Gordon

Living alone on a reporter's salary meant Gordon Dritschilo had to learn how to cook, which he threw himself into with a geekish passion. In the process, went from the sort of person who orders a cheeseburger at a fancy restaurant to having a reputation as the guy who will eat anything.

Poultry

04/09/2013

I missed out the last time -- I'd been ordered not to bring home any large packages of odd ingredients for a while -- so the fact that I have now seen them there a second time means if we keep asking for them, Hannaford will keep getting them.

So, what, you ask, do you do with chicken feet? Well, you can deep fry them and pop them into your mouth, bones and all. The Chinese love that, apparently, but after trying it at a dim sum place in Boston, I can't recommend it.

No, if you're like me, you want to use them to make stock. Much of what I keep saying about pig's feet applies just as well to chicken feet -- tons of connective tissue that melts when simmered -- so they will make some of the best chicken stock you've ever had. You can use them on their own or with whatever gnawed-on chicken bones you have accumulated.

The second find of the day was in the deli counter at Price Chopper. I have been mourning the fact that they do not carry mortadella anymore, but my grief was lessened when I saw this:

Head cheese is various cuts of meat, mostly from the head, boiled until tender and then jammed together into a form that can be sliced into lunchmeat.

It is sooooooo good! For those of you reflexively going "ew," know this: My four-year-old wolfed down a slice and promptly demanded more. If that finnicky little beast likes it, so will you.

02/28/2013

Smoked turkey legs were all the rage a few years back, and still turn up at some festivals.

Braising them can be even more fun than smoking them, and more practical in the dead of winter. The drawback to braising poultry rather than smoking it is that would have to take care to get the skin crispy. This (as we have discussed before) is most easily accomplished by cooking them in an open pot, with as much of the skin above the liquid as possible.

For a while, now, I’ve been thinking I should try smoking turkey after marinating it in tandoori paste, but went with this braise when inspiration struck on a day that was not particularly grill friendly.

It is my usual practice, when I make braises, to use the liquid as a sauce. In this case, I let the marinated meat stand on its own and held on to the liquid for a second dish – you’ll have to tune in tomorrow if you want to find out what that wound up being.

You will also note that I did not bother trying to brown the turkey. I took one look at the drumsticks, with their curvy shape, and decided the time that I would have spent getting grease burns while cursing the meat for not lying flat against the pan would be better spent watching television. The oven browned the skin just fine.

I served this with coconut rice and sliced cucumbers in a ginger-mint sauce. The ginger-mint sauce is still a work in progress. I’ll get it to where I can post it eventually.

Tandoori-spiced Braised Turkey Legs

6 turkey legs

3-4 large spoonfuls of tandoori paste (As long as my supply of Patak’s holds up, I expect I will continue to be too lazy to make my own.)

Rice vinegar

Olive oil

2 onions, sliced lengthwise

6 garlic cloves, peeled

1 bay leaf

butter

Place the turkey legs in a large Ziploc bag with three or four spoonfuls of tandoori paste. Thin the paste with some vinegar and olive oil, seal the bag and jostle it until the marinade covers the meat. Refrigerate for at least two hours (three or four would be even better), picking up the bag and jostling it every half-hour or so.

In a pot wide enough to hold the turkey in a single layer (like this one), melt a pat of butter in a little oil and sweat the onions. Add the bay leaf and garlic and cook, stirring, for another minute. Place the turkey in the pot and pour in the marinade with enough water to come one-third to one-half of the way up the sides of the turkey legs.

Cook for about an hour, checking to make sure the skin doesn’t burn, then drop heat to 325. Cook for a total of two hours.

02/12/2013

I have never really thought tequila was for drinking so much as for being mired in self-loathing.

There were, in the liquor cabinet at my parents’ house, three bottles of tequila.

With the exception of the occasional summertime margarita, we are not a tequila-drinking people, and it is unclear to me how this surplus, two bottles of Cuervo Gold and one of some clear brand, came to be there.

It was suggested to me that I might help dispose of the excess. The problem is, there are only so many nights in a year a responsible adult can spend lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling between swigs as Steely Dan’s “Hey Nineteen” plays on repeat.

So, it had to be cooking.

Fortunately, there was a supply of dried mango on-hand and inspiration struck.

I considered making some sort of glaze out of mango juice, tequila and chili peppers, but was foiled by my inability to secure pure mango juice from any of the stores I stopped at Sunday. For some reason, every company that isn’t Goya thinks mango juice needs to be cut with white grape juice. Here’s a handy tip for all of them: it doesn’t.

Perhaps I’ll try the glaze another time, maybe on a pork tenderloin or duck breast. The chicken did just fine without it.

Ideally, you should use a pan just big enough to hold the thighs snugly. The closer together they are, the less liquid you’ll need, and the less you’ll have to reduce the liquid at the end. I hit the sweet spot and didn’t have to reduce at all.

A word of warning: the ratio of chicken thighs to mango-tequila goop was not quite what I would have liked, and the leftovers are going to be eaten with significantly less good than the original servings were. I might, when I try this again, double the amount of mango, though I worry about what that will do to the amount of tequila. I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get there.

Mangorita Chicken

Seven chicken thighs (bone-in, skin-on)

One cup of dried mango, roughly chopped (Really, I just hacked at them with a knife a couple times before wondering why I was bothering)

Two onions, diced small

One dried red chili pepper (It occurred to me later that a jalapeno might have been more thematically appropriate. It would have made for a hotter dish – this was not hot at all.)

Five cloves of garlic, peeled

One large dash of cumin

Tequila (Cuervo Gold in this case)

Water

Oil

Salt and pepper to taste

A small bunch of cilantro, roughly chopped.

Put the mango chunks in a cup with just enough tequila to cover and let them soak for at least an hour.

Preheat the oven to 375.

Pat the chicken thighs dry with paper towels and season well with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a wide, deep pan over medium-high heat on the stove. Brown the thighs in batches – you don’t need them super brown, because they’ll keep browning in the oven, but you need to get them started – remove and set aside.

Add the onions and cook until soft. Add the cumin and deglaze with some of the tequila you’ve been soaking the mangos in.

Add the garlic, chili pepper, mangos and remainder of the tequila and cook for a minute or so. Return the meat to the pot, skin-side up. Add enough water that the liquid comes about halfway up the sides of the thighs – try to keep as much of the skin showing as possible.

(Had I secured some, I might have used mango juice instead of water, but that would have felt redundant. Had I felt more daring, I would have just poured in more tequila.)

Bring to a boil, slide into the oven, uncovered, and cook for 90 minutes. Check periodically to make sure the liquid doesn’t cook down too far.

(At this stage, it would be appropriate to sing to yourself, “The Cuervo Gold, the mango-braised chicken, makes tonight a wonderful thing.”)

When the thighs are done, remove the pan from the oven and place the thighs on a platter. Discard the chili pepper and, if necessary, boil the liquid down.

Plate each thigh with a spoonful of the mango-tequila goop and garnish with the cilantro. Serve with Quick Mexican Rice.

01/24/2013

This barely deserves to be called a recipe, but it totally deserves to be called awesome.

I make fried potatoes (my mother would have called them “potato pancakes,” but I’ve seen that name applied to some very different creations and want to avoid confusion) for breakfast when I’m feeling particularly lazy and gluttonous. Made with butter, they’re incredible. Made with bacon fat (breakfast, gluttony, etc.) they're unspeakably good. Made with duck fat, you’ll wonder how many states they’re legal in.

Duck fat fried potatoes

Duck fat (You haven’t bought one of those little tubs they sell at Price Chopper yet? Get on with it!)

1 red potato

Salt

Pepper

Nothing else. There is no fifth ingredient.

Thwack a good-size spoonful of duck fat into a pan (nonstick would be good here, as would cast iron) and melt it over medium-high heat.

Grate the potato into the hot fat, season with salt and pepper, stir and then mash into a flat, circular shape roughly filling the pan.

Now, don’t admit to anyone you do this next part. As it cooks, drop a smaller spoonful of duck fat onto the top and rub it around with a spoon until it melts.

When the potatoes are sticking together, flip and cook the other side until it’s a rich golden-brown color. If the first side didn’t get enough color, flip it back to cook that side a little more.

Remove and serve. Resolve to go to the gym and eat something green for lunch.

01/22/2013

They are rich and flavorful enough that any sort of pan sauce you might make really is extraneous, but the lovely fat and drippings you get from cooking just cry out to be used for something.

Usually, wilting some leafy winter greens like spinach or kale in the fat is good enough for me. Every now and then, though, I feel like I need to make a sauce just for the heck of it.

This was inspired by a duck goulash I made a while back. I don’t know as I ever posted that recipe – maybe I will later this week. In the goulash, I decided to offset the fancy Spanish paprika with some dried cherries, duck and cherries being a classic combination.

Here, I use a little bit of flour to convert the fat into a roux, thickening the liquid for the sauce.

It was a bit on the spicy side, so if you are highly sensitive to heat I’d cut the paprika in half (or use a milder one) but I got no complaints from my diners.

The D’Artagnan duck breasts at Price Chopper average about a pound, which the diet people would probably like us to split among four people. One can certainly stretch them that far, but I’m finding they go better between three – two if you’re really hungry. Eating the whole thing yourself would just be greedy. The smaller breasts they have at the Wallingford Locker, on the other hand, should not be divided among more than two people.

Score the skin on the duck breast and season liberally with salt and pepper. Place it skin-side down in a pan and brown over medium heat.

Once the duck is brown on both sides, slide the pan into the oven for 10 to 15 minutes. You don’t want to cook it much past medium rare. When finished, remove the pan from the oven, place the duck on a plate and cover loosely with foil.

On the stove over medium heat, sweat the onions in the duck fat and drippings. When they begin to soften, stir in the flour and paprika. When the flour is dissolved, pour in the sherry/cherry mixture, using a wooden spoon to scrape up and dissolve any crusty bits at the bottom of the pan.

Cook, stirring, until the mixture thickens. Slice the duck breast and pour the sauce over the slices.

01/08/2013

Sometimes sausage is best cooked and eaten in link form, and other times it is best off crumbled into a pan and sautéed with other ingredients that will then absorb flavor from its wonderful, sausagey fat and juices.

Continuing with my exploration of the newly available selection of D’Artagnan products at our local Price Chopper, today I discuss the duck sausage.

A seven-dollar package of the sausage holds four links totaling eight ounces. Cooked in link form, this does not make for the most impressive dinner for four in the world. Crumbled up and mixed with a bunch of other ingredients, though, it can respectably fill a family’s worth of plates.

Longtime readers (Do I have any longtime readers – other than you, Mom?) will recognize certain themes here upon which I have touched before.

And, no, neither D’Artagnan or Price Chopper are giving me anything for writing all this. Even if they did, my oppressors editors would make me give it back. I’m doing this because I love the stuff, and I want you people to buy it so Price Chopper keeps stocking it.

Duck Sausage Fry-up

1 package duck sausage (8.5 ounces), links slit open lengthwise

5 shallots, diced small

two good-sized red potatoes, diced small

half a package (give or take) of frozen peas.

Butter

Madeira

Sweat the shallots in the butter and add the potatoes. Cook, stirring for a few minutes and then crumble in the duck sausage. Cook, stirring, until the potatoes and the meat each begin to take on some color.

Add the peas and a splash of Madeira. Cook until the liquid is gone and the peas have just softened.

I promised more on what to do with all that lovely D’Artagnan stuff that has appeared at Price Chopper, and I’m going to start with the most versatile item in the lot: the little tubs of duck fat.

Pretty much anything becomes awesome when you cook it in duck fat, but there are certain dishes in which it shines. Eggs feature prominently in a number of those dishes.

I am not an egg person. This makes me sad, because it cuts me off from most of the awesome breakfasts of Western cuisine. I have, however, enjoyed some omelets.

This is not a standard omelet, but a one-egg take-off on the frittata recipe in The Joy of Cooking. Egg and a large amount of filling are cooked together, so the egg plays more of a binding role rather than being a primary flavor.

This was a favored breakfast I shared with a special someone in happier times.

Smoked gouda omelet

1 egg

1/3 cup grated Taylor Hill Farm smoked gouda (No, this isn’t just a concession to the locavores. Taylor Hill Farm was my gouda of choice back when my then-girlfriend and I made regular expeditions to the Manchester winter farmers market)

1 spoonful of duck fat

kosher salt to taste

Beat the egg and mix in the cheese.

Melt the duck fat in a nonstick pan over medium-high heat. Pour in the egg and cheese mixture and cook until it begins to firm up. Flip (you’ll want a big spatula and will need to be quick) and cook for another minute or two until done. Sprinkle with a little of the salt and serve.

10/25/2012

I was disappointed to learn that butterscotch is not actually made with Scotch.

I hope you don't think I let that deter me. While I would have preferred a nice highland single malt to make this glaze, I made do with the Cutty Sark that was readily available and have no complaints.

I have mentioned before how awesome chicken thighs are. They are both tastier and cheaper than breasts, and they make this dish work fabulously. The glaze adds a nice bit of flavor to the skin.

Butterscotch-Glazed Chicken

6 chicken thighs, bone in and skin on

2 medium to large onions, finely chopped

6 carrots, peeled and cut into bite-size chunks

6 cloves garlic, peeled

2 cups (give or take) chicken stock

3-4 sprigs thyme

1 bay leaf

butter

2 ounces (maybe a little more) scotch

Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 375

Pat the thighs dry and season well with salt and pepper. Brown them in some of the butter and set aside.

Sweat the onions in the chicken drippings, deglazing in some of the stock, and add the garlic, carrots, thyme and bay leaf.

Return the chicken to the pot with enough stock to come halfway to two-thirds of the way up the sides of the thighs. Bring to a boil and place in the oven, UNCOVERED, for 90 minutes.

At around the 70 minute mark, combine the scotch with a good-size knob of butter in a saucepan and cook until it becomes a sticky goo, then brush it over the skin of the thighs and leave them in the oven for the remainder of the cooking time.

09/27/2012

I'll level with you folks -- this is the kind of thing I only make when I want to show off. Still, isn't it fun to show off every once in a while?

This is the type of dish best made in phases. The turkey can be cut up and the skin rendered well in advance of the rest of the cooking. With that done, making the batter and coating and cooking the turkey just before serving should go smoothly.

When I originally made this, I used the cracklings to garnish a salad. They would have been better off sprinkled over the turkey.

Pumpkin-Battered Turkey

2 turkey thighs

4 ounces pumpkin ale

1 egg

4 ounces flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 tablespoon salt

salt and pepper to taste

butter for cooking

water

Skin and bone the turkey thighs. Cut out individual muscles without too much fat, where possible, and pound flat. Reserve excess meat for tacos and the bones for making stock.

Chop up the skin put it in a shallow pan with a little water. Cook over a medium heat to render fat and then strain out the resulting cracklings. Season those and put them aside for later.

Whisk together the pumpkin ale and the egg. Combine the flour, salt and baking powder and whisk into the beer-egg mixture to form a batter.

Pat the turkey dry, season it with salt and pepper and coat the pieces with the batter.

Melt a pat of butter into half the turkey fat and cook the battered turkey over medium-high heat until well browned on both sides. Add the remainder of the turkey fat and more butter to the pan as needed.